


It's not how you hit the mat

by marmolita



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s01e07 Stick, M/M, Matt's traumatic childhood, Molestation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, reasons why Matt is fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You remember the first time he got you like this.  Twelve years old, in the basement of the orphanage where Stick conducted all of your lessons.  He nearly dislocated your shoulder -- you could hear the bones grinding up to the edge -- but he let go and left you alone to try again.</i>
</p>
<p>Five different things that might have happened during Stick's visit to Matt's apartment in episode 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not how you hit the mat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for several prompts on the kinkmeme ([1](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1742.html?thread=2918094#cmt2918094) [2](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1742.html?thread=3015630#cmt3015630) [3](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1296.html?thread=2316304#cmt2316304)). This is so full of badwrong that I hesitated to post this on my main account, but apparently I have no shame, so here it is. WARNINGS: involves multiple non-graphic flashbacks of Stick physically and sexually abusing and raping Matt as a preteen, dubious consent as an adult, general awfulness, and one mention of getting peed on.

1.

"Born to lose Battlin' Jack. At least your daddy got paid when he hit the floor," Stick says, and the rage inside you boils up and out, through your lip that curls and your hands that fist in his jacket. He grabs your arm and twists with that same fucking trick he always used to use on you, pulling your hand up behind your back so your shoulder strains at the socket.

You remember the first time he got you like this. Twelve years old, in the basement of the orphanage where Stick conducted all of your lessons. He nearly dislocated your shoulder -- you could hear the bones grinding up to the edge -- but he let go and left you alone to try again.

The second time, he _did_ dislocate your shoulder, then popped it back in when you started screaming because he didn't want the nuns to think anything out of the ordinary was going on.

It was probably the fourth or fifth time that he pinned you up against a table, arm behind your back, and you felt the hot heat of his erection against your ass. You didn't completely understand what was going on then, just that the table was digging painfully into your hips and Stick was behind you, hot and hard and muttering something about _you think you're too good for this, you think you're hot shit, you're just a whiny fucking brat_. After he let you go, he smelled like your sheets did after one of those dreams that made you itch for confession.

You're frozen for a moment, waiting for the tableau to play out again, but then you remember that you're a grown man in your prime and he's not bigger and heavier than you anymore, and you grab his arm and flip to break his hold.

You're never going to let him pin you like that again.

2.

"Born to lose Battlin' Jack. At least your daddy got paid when he hit the floor," Stick says. You grab at his jacket but he grabs your arm and twists with that same fucking trick he always used to use on you, pulling your hand up behind your back so your shoulder strains at the socket.

It shouldn't feel good, but it does. Stick was the closest thing you had to a father after your dad died, and nearly breaking your arm was as close as he came to showing affection. He'd pin you, and yeah, he'd mock and insult you, but he'd also get really close, and sometimes he'd touch you. Not the way he touched you when you were fighting, but more gently, more like he cared.

The same way the priest the nuns made you take confession with touched you, when he told you you were special.

You didn't realize until at least a year after he left, when Father MacKenzie was transferred after a scandal, that what he'd done was called "molestation."

Twenty years later and you've broken a lot of abusers' faces to try to make up for it, but with Stick pinning you down and his free hand starting to edge down the side of your hip, your brain short-circuits and all you can remember is the ingrained reflex to submit.

The fight goes out of you, and you hang your head. Stick laughs.

3.

"Born to lose Battlin' Jack. At least your daddy got paid when he hit the floor," Stick says, and you grab at him in anger but he pins you with your arm behind your back.

The thing is, you know how to get out of this one now. You flip and make him lose his grip, and when you come back up, arms raised defensively around your head, Stick laughs. "Took you twenty years to learn how to get out of that one," he says.

He sounds proud of you, and you try not to react to that. "Yeah, I've learned a lot since you've been gone."

"Like what?"

"You're a dick."

"That's true. You got any beer?"

You can't help chuckling, because it feels so _comfortable_. It feels like--

It feels like he never left. Like he never abandoned you. Like he's proud of how you've turned out, and you shouldn't want his approval like that but you do.

When he grabs your ass and says the girls must be into you because you grew up so hot, you let him. When he says he wants to know how you've learned to use your body, you show him with your hands and your mouth and your hips. You'll be damned if you'll let him think you don't know how to please someone. You're confident you're better at sex than you are at fighting.

When he can't find any way to fault you on it, you feel like you've won somehow.

4.

"Born to lose Battlin' Jack. At least your daddy got paid when he hit the floor." You rush him and grab his jacket but he twists your arm back behind you with the same trick he always used to use on you.

You can't help thinking about one particular time he had you pinned like this. He used this move on you a lot, but there was once that it didn't end with him just throwing you onto the floor. There was one time when he moved in closer, when he grabbed the fly of your jeans with his other hand.

"What are you doing?" you asked, afraid, and he laughed.

"Training you." He opened your jeans and pushed them down, along with your underwear, and you struggled hard but only succeeded in hurting yourself. "Pretty boy like you is gonna have to learn to deal with some unwanted attention."

Stick touched your dick and your whole body jerked, twisting away from him. "Mind controls the body," he murmured. "Let's see if you can control yours."

You couldn't.

You couldn't control your body's reactions, and then, when he finished with that, Stick slicked himself up with spit and penetrated you. When you cried, he just told you, "Suck it up, kid. You think anyone's gonna feel sorry for you? You're gonna learn to take it, just like you're gonna learn to take a beating, because the weak get crushed under the heels of the strong. Quit your whining and show me you can be strong."

That was twenty years ago, but it feels like it was yesterday when your apartment is full of the smell of Stick's dirty clothes and musk, when his hands are holding you down. You can break this hold, now.

You wonder, which would show him that you're stronger? Breaking his hold on you, or tolerating whatever he's got coming without complaint?

5.

"I'm not gonna let you kill that kid."

"Oh, he's already dead. I caught up with the van when you were dicking around with Nobu's men. I put an arrow in that thing's heart."

The rage inside you boils up and out, through your lip that curls and your hands that strike out. You fight better now than when you were a kid. You get a few hits in, you make some progress, but it still ends up the same way: you on the floor and Stick yelling at you to get up while he keeps kicking you.

It always ended this way in the past, and it's ending this way now, Stick above you, condescending, disappointed, but with a faint hint of pleasure. He likes seeing you like this. He's always liked seeing you like this, beaten and bruised, ribs cracked, writhing in agony and trying desperately to get up.

There were a few times, when you were a kid, when Stick liked it so much that he pulled his dick out of his pants and jerked off over you. You'd just discovered how your dick worked and were barely old enough to understand, but you learned the smell well.

Once, after he came, while you were still struggling to get off the floor, you got hit with a hot stream of urine on your back, soaking through your shirt and into the scrapes on your sides. You cried, that time, and Stick laughed. He laughed, and then he cleaned you up and took you out for ice cream, and told you you were making progress. You were--

You were proud of yourself.

This time, though, you smell the arousal rising in him but you also hear the hum of a billy club rolling toward you, and you close your hand over it.

For a while, when you were with Stick, you forgot the lessons your father had taught you. You remember them now.

It's not how you hit the mat, it's how you get up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [atrata](http://archiveofourown.org/users/atrata) for beta feedback! Find me on [tumblr](http://marmolita.tumblr.com) if you want to talk about Matt Murdock's horrible life with me. :D


End file.
